Welcome to the Opera Populaire
by ILoveTonyStewart
Summary: A girl mysteriously finds herself at the famed Opera Populaire late one night. She is met by a man who offers her a place to stay. During her visit, she happens upon a terrifying discovery. Based on The Eagles song Hotel California and Gaston Leroux's The
1. Welcome to the Opera Populaire

It was late one night as I drove a small buggy-like car down the streets of Paris. I began to grow tired and suddenly, I nodded off. I woke up just in time to slam on my brakes to avoid a street lamp.

I saw a building in the distance with welcoming lights. Why hadn't I noticed it before?

I left the car parked on the side of the road. Approaching the front of the building, I felt a growing uneasiness. I fought the urge to run away and stepped up to the massive door. I suddenly realized that this building was an opera house. Before I could turn away, the door seemed to open itself.

There he stood, brooding and tall, but somehow comforting. He was dressed in all black, but was very elegantly poised. He started at me. I shrank under his questioning glance. His voice echoed softly throughout the corridors of the opera house as he welcomed me in.

"Welcome to the Opera Populaire," he said in perfect French. His voice seemed to surround me with exquisite beauty. I became fully entranced.

He extended his arm to the corridor, essentially inviting me in. He lit a candle and began walking away, motioning for me to follow him. I started after him and suddenly, the door shut itself behind me. I turned to look at the door curiously.

"A magician?" I whispered to myself.

"I am many things, mademoiselle." His voice startled me.

Down the many corridors, I thought I could hear voices calling to me. I strained to hear what they were saying.

"Welcome to the Opera Populaire.." they called. They were both haunting and beautiful.

He looked back at me as we trod the seemingly endless corridors. I gave a small, shy grin. He simply turned away. I followed after him into a large room with many windows.

"Where are we?" I asked shyly.

Ignoring me, the man walked around lighting candles.

I looked at my surroundings. There was a lovely sofa in one corner and a matching loveseat. My breath caught in my throat as I glanced at the majestic fireplace.

For the first time since I'd arrived, I saw his face fully in the moonlight. He wore a white mask that covered a good part of his face.

"You may stay here" His voice was gentle, yet commanding. He motioned toward the sofa. "It's all we have. This is the only guest room we have."

I stared at him moving about the room. He pulled out some blankets and a pillow.

"What about all the rooms down the corridors?"

He glared at me. "Those, my dear, are none of your concern!" he angrily replied.

"Now, you may sleep there on that sofa. There is a bathing basin over there and if you need the fireplace..." his voice trailed off. He cast a strange, oddly pitiful glance at me. "I don't believe you shall need the fireplace." He abruptly left the room and I was abandoned to wondering exactly what he meant.

I carried my tired body to the wash basin. I dipped my fingers into the water, but it seemed as though there were nothing in it. It was an odd sensation to see the water but not feel it on my fingers. It was then that I realized that I hadn't disturbed the water. My hands were in the basin, but the water remained as though it had not been touched.

At this point, I had a faint understanding of what had happened.

I started to see my surroundings for what they really were. The sofa was old, faded and covered with dust. I glanced at the wash basin in front of me. There was no water there. The candles began to flicker off one by one.

I placed my hand to my heart and felt nothing.

I exhaled on the dusty desk only to find that my breathe had no power of removing any of the little specks of dust.

Yes, I understood now. Still, I began to move toward the door to locate the mysterious man who'd lead me down here. I knew only he held the answer to my pressing question. 


	2. Revelations

As I neared the door, I seemed to slip through it without laying a finger on the handle. Perhaps it was open, I tell myself. I turned to face the door out of which I had just come only to find it closed.

It was as though I was dreaming. I felt as though I were caught in that strange place between wakefulness and sleep where your dreams seem to draw inspiration from your surroundings.

I heard a sound, I swirled around to face a black corridor and I heard it.

The voices, the voices were calling again. They called to me. I could not understand them, but I heard my name being called amongst the unintelligible murmurs.

"Amyriah…Amyriah…"

As if drawn by some unseen force I was obliged to follow the voices emanating down the corridors. They were calling me, calling my name. I could not control the pull which drew me nearer to them. I did not attempt to resist the pull. I allowed my self to drift soundlessly away from silence, toward the music.

At once, I was faced with a figure of great stature. I came to realize that it was the man who had rescued me from the black night. He began to speak to me in a commanding tone. I was powerless to his brooding voice.

"Where are you going, my dear? Do you not yet understand the circumstances? This is not a place which you are empowered to desert."

I stood, paralyzed, unable to move or speak. Indeed, I was beginning to come to terms with the circumstances.

The mournful figure held out a pale hand to me and I felt my own rising to meet it. We began to walk, no, sail, effortlessly away from the blackness of the corridor toward a gleaming beam of ethereal radiance.

I have no other means of description of the source of the place to which we had arrived than to say that it was a place of great light. The radiance caused me to withdraw slightly, but the light did not bother my ever widening eyes.

It was a warm, welcoming light. It seemed to call to me, much like the voices.

I don't know when it was that I realized that we had arrived to a feast. I only know that there was only silence. The deadened faces of my companions were grim and unfeeling. Their eyes did not meet the glances of others. It seemed as though their eyes were no more than black tunnels and if you dared to peer into them, your soul would forever be lost to them.

At a certain point, my submission to my masked companion subsided as an emotion for which I have no name overtook me. I arose from the feasting table and attempted to find my way from the room, back to the passage which would lead me from this icy existence. I was halted by a man near the passage.

"You cannot go. You must stay here. You have nowhere to be. There is no place left in the world for you." I then, at that moment, fully conceived my fate. I could not recall what the circumstances were that lead me here. I felt a presence behind me. It the masked figure.

"What happened? What happened to me? Why am I here?"

His eyes, painted with pity, turned from me.

"You hit the streetlight. The car caught on fire. It happened so quickly, it's no wonder you have no memory of it. I guess it's for the best. Come with me."

I followed him down the corridor once more. He led me to a window out of which I could see the street where I had parked my car. Indeed, the vehicle was charred and almost unrecognizable.

I placed my hand on the window and noticed a bit of fogginess surrounding it. I understood that I was doomed to haunt this place.

My only existence now consisted of causing the fear of my living counterparts until the day their fates would lead them into my realm.

Where would I start? What could I do? My very existence in this endless labyrinth of corridors and rooms would forever frighten any visitors here. I ran my fingers across the wall and grasped the doorknob which I then turned. I heard a small gasp behind me and turned to see what it was. A small child of about 10 years of age stood there. She was shaking frantically, but unable to move, she stood there gazing in my direction. Only, she wasn't really looking at me, she knew I was there, but could not see me. I let out a quiet chuckle and the girl fell to the floor in a frantic heap until a woman took her away.

I followed down the hall to a small room where the little girl was place. I entered the room almost instantly. I could not explain this strange occurrence in which I seemed transported into other rooms. I saw the little girl on the bed. She was panting and drops of sweat beaded their way down her cheeks.

I couldn't help but pity the child. After all, it was not her fault that I crossed her path at the moment. I hoped that she would be alright and silently exited the room. 


	3. Unrest

I felt as though I was perpetually wandering. I could not keep myself in one place. I suppose it was only because I was not really a body anymore, just a poor spirit haunting the catacombs of a retired opera. I could find no rest. I only wanted rest.

It quite perplexed me that I could find no rest. All the myths I had heard of spirits who could not rest beyond the grave must have been terribly false. They fancied these poor beings that forever wandered the earth, blissfully unaware of their existence, or lack thereof.

I, however, knew that I was killed. I understood at least that much. What I could not fathom was this sensation of being unfinished. I felt as though there was something missing.

It came to me in one fleeting moment. I was unfinished. There was something that in my waking life, I had failed to do. One thing that for the rest of eternity would haunt me ever more than those I haunted in the opera.

My mother. It was not the one who had raised me, however, but the one whom I had never known. The one who gave me away, thinking only of my future.

I suppose it was all she could do. From what I had discovered about the 16 year old girl who'd given me up, she was an astounding girl.

She'd carried me throughout most of her junior year of high school and had endured harassment from her peers and teachers.

"It's not her fault she was raped", I'd heard my adoptive mother say once. "She was just 15."

I wished that I could have known her, my mother. She must have been incredible. I know she would not have given me up if she had a choice, but she did not.

Small towns could be too much trouble. Everyone knows everyone else. They hide things from the rest of the world.

The man who had raped my mother had been hidden away from everyone. He'd been allowed to live out the rest of his days in peaceful solitude, while my mother had been forced to live with his sin.

I remember the day I read about him in the newspaper. I remember that day as if it had just happened.

Man Accused of Raping 15 Year Old Girl Dies

It was so outright. So plain. Nothing in the world could have stopped my rage. I thrust the paper to the ground and raced out the door, tears welling in my eyes.

I felt a presence behind me, breaking me from my thoughts. I found it odd how I was now more sensitive to presences than sounds.  
There he was, that dark figure. He seemed less brooding to me now that I had learned his name by external sources.  
Erik. I thought it a lovely name. I never dared call him by that name. I feared he would be put back and possibly would refuse to assist me.  
I simply called him sir. He kept his gaze just past me as though he dared not look into my eyes. It was as though he feared something. Something he'd have to face should he catch my glance.

"I know what it is that despairs you."

His words were so simple. He rarely spoke to me. However, when he did, it was always very straightforward.

Perplexed as I was, I simply followed him down the hall. I dared not speak, for he kept such a silence that I have not heard since the day I first came here.

We travelled ever so quietly. It seemed an endless journey. I feared we'd never arrive. However, at some point, though I do not know when, we arrive upon a doorstep. It was no ordinary doorstep, but that of a large mansion. I allowed my eyes to wander about the sprawling property. It was a lovely place, indeed.

He disappeared into the vast building and I followed him in. We came to a small room. I allowed myself to glance about the room. It was an office. To my utter amazement, there were dozens of pictures about the walls and on the desk of myself.

"This was your birth mother's office. She cared for you deeply."

I could never have imagined how significant I was to her. She had never known me, but still, she loved me.

"Amyriah, you may not truly understand. I shall attempt to explain to you some things. Fate brought you to the Opera Populaire. I have been gone from the world of the living for many years. However, I have been assigned to you to put your soul at rest.

"There was not a day she did not think of you. She kept pictures of you that your adoptive parents had sent her. Sadly, six days after you died, your birth mother was killed by a drunk driver. You have been brought here to be reunited with her.

"I must go now, you never will see me again, Amyriah. I feel my work with you is done."

With those words, he vanished. 


End file.
